The Coffeshop
by lemonprince
Summary: CEO Tom Riddle never went to buy his own coffee, it was just unheard of, but a serious of unfortunate (or perhaps they were fortunate in nature) lead him into the small cafe owned by one Harry Potter. Nonmagical AU SLASH ONESHOT


**The Coffee Shop**

I've wanted to write a coffee shop au of Tom/Harry so I finally sat down and wrote one up.  
Nothing really to warn you guys about, except maybe the gay (but then again, if you don't like gay why are you reading this?), and Draco Malfoy being a troll (intentional cockblock?). This is a one shot! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Tom Riddle was beyond pissed, he was livid. Today was, by far, the worst day in his life to date. He was a careful man, an organized man, and a man that – excluding today – was known to have his life together. He had the world at his fingertips; financially he was the wealthiest man in Britain, he graduated from Hogwarts University as first in his class, and was reigning champion of Witch Weekly's most charming smile award for the past three consecutive years. Not that he really cared nor bragged about the last detail to be honest but an award was still an award and three years was a long time. The point being, he was a man that prided himself in being in control of his life and today was a day where he felt he didn't have that control.

Firstly, he woke up late.

That might not have been a big deal to anyone else, but Tom Riddle wasn't just anyone one else. He was CEO of Slytherin Enterprises, a multibillion dollar company with offices all over the world. And CEO Riddle never once woke up late in all his thirty two years of life. Tom, for as long as he could remember, had an internal alarm clock that woke him up at exactly six in the morning every day. But for some odd reason his internal alarm clock did not wake him up at six in the morning today.

This would have been fine because as it so happens, Tom Riddle was a very careful person and always had back up plans with back up plans for anything and everything. He had not one, but two, alarm clocks. Yet, and he was starting to believe in this thing called Fate, both his alarms decided not to ring on this particular day. Thus he woke up three hours later than he normally would.

Again, that would have been fine because one, he was the boss, and two well that's it isn't it? He's the boss, there's nothing else to discuss. But today was a particularly nasty day. He had an international board meeting set up that he was already one hour late to, which ultimately caused him to rush around his apartment getting ready for the day. And Tom Riddle hated being rushed, he liked to do things in his own time, he liked being in control.

When he finally made it out of the garage and into the city he found himself in bumper to bumper traffic. The usual fifteen minute drive from his home to his office took a staggering hour and a half. By now his gut feeling was telling him that maybe he should have stayed in today because so far nothing seemed to be in going in his favor. 'It's just a bad day,' he thought to himself as he took the elevator to his office, 'What more could possibly go wrong now?' Well, it seemed it spoke too fast because apparently things could still go wrong. Once he arrived at the doors to his office, he found that his secretary had taken an emergency leave and the recently appointed trainee secretary had gotten overwhelmed and left a letter of resignation that morning. And although Tom Riddle didn't believe in a higher power somewhere up, or down, there – he was starting to honestly doubt himself in his beliefs.

He ended up leaving his office at exactly 11:30AM to grab his own coffee because one, he needed to get some air, and two he felt if he stayed any longer he would have strangled one of his many employees that where running around like chickens with their heads cut off because their boss was apparently "fuming with silent rage and was going to burn the next person he sees with his red demonic eyes".

So here we find Tom Riddle, age thirty two, CEO of Slytherin Enterprises in front of a small homely looking café a few blocks away from his sixty-five story tall empire. "I haven't gotten my own coffee in years," he mumbled lowly to himself before entering the quaint café.

He found himself surprised when he entered the establishment, because contrary to the décor outside - with its worn brick walls, sun bleached wooden frame door and windows, and the copious amounts of potted flowers decorating the exterior – Tom Riddle had expected to walk into a homely café with time worn rugs, squishy (possibly worn) armchairs draped with blankets, and perhaps even (although not at an unsanitary level) a swirl of dust circulating the air as older gentlemen sat around enjoying a cup of joe with the paper. He was wrong on all accounts however because the café inside was clean and extremely modern as well as surprisingly empty. It featured a brown and crème color scheme with polished wooden counters. Square wooden shelves lined up the walls filled with shiny glass containers and bags of coffee beans. There where rows of black leather arm chairs and low wooden desks, and lined up across the walls on either side of the café, located with outlets to match, where four sets of high black highly polished tables with wooden high chairs. Bright, although in no way irritating, bulbs of light hung down from the surprisingly high ceiling reminiscent of crystals on thin white strings. Tom let out a small sigh as he lets the sounds of Pachelbel soak in and hopefully wash out all the negative energy that had been surrounding him all day.

"Welcome to The Marauders' Den," a pleasantly low male voice called from somewhere behind the counter. "How are you today?" The male continued before appearing from underneath the counter, he set a mason jar of roasted coffee beans in front of him.

"Fine," Tom replied automatically as he walked up to the counter, because really, why would he tell a complete stranger that he was having the worst day of his life?

The worker smiled at him while nodding his head as if pleased with Tom's response, "Here is our menu," he replied as he handed Tom a tri-folded piece of parchment paper entitled The Marauders' Map. "Today's roast of the day is our 100% Kona Coffee, and you arrived just in time, our baker had a delay today and just finished delivering our pastries," he finished as he motioned toward the glass refrigeration system to his left. It was packed with muffins, tarts, cakes, breads, and across the upper half of the refrigerator was a colorful display of macrons. "Our macrons are from The Beauxbatons Bakery!" The boy supplied in an excited voice.

"Oh?" Tom replied with a tilt of his eyebrow as a small smile played across his lips, "I'm sorry to say I'm not too familiar with bakeries…" He trailed off as his took in the boy's wavy black locks and boyish face before locating his name tag on his slate gray button up shirt that proclaimed that the male was in fact the owner of this cafe, "…Harry."

Harry flushed underneath Tom's unwavering gaze, from embarrassment or pleasure Tom didn't know – although he'd bet on a mix of both if the sudden nervous fidgeting of the barista's fingers were anything to go by.

And although Tom would have liked nothing more than to see the pretty male squirm a bit more (he was sadistic by nature as it came with the CEO title) he decided that creating bad karma on this particular day was in fact not a smart thing to do at all so he gave the poor boy a break and ordered a cup of the hand drip Kona coffee and three macrons.

"Which macrons would you like?" Harry mumbled out because he was suddenly feeling really hot and nervous around the attractive man.

"How about you pick me out three of your favorites since you seem to be more familiar with these than I am?" Tom replied back in a light voice as he gazed back into the boy's impossibly green eyes.

"Okay," Harry stammered out as he looked down. He cursed himself silently for breaking eye contact and for sounding so weak. He had a feeling that this customer was seriously enjoying watching him squirm. "I like the violet, earl grey, and pistachio flavored ones the best…" Harry trailed off as he handed the man his plate of French deserts.

"Thank you," Tom said, deliberately brushing his fingers against Harry's as he took the plate from the suddenly blushing male.

"I-I'll bring you your coffee when it's ready" Harry spoke quickly in an octave higher than his normal voice as he turned around to prepare Tom's coffee.

Tom hummed in reply as he chose a seat facing the counter so that he could observe the male as he bustled about preparing his coffee. He would have said that the nervous male had been replaced by someone else if he didn't know any better because Harry transformed into a completely different person right before his eyes.

'So this is a barista,' Tom mused to himself as he watched the once nervous and fidgeting male take on an air of grace and confidence as he slowly poured hot water from a kettle into the freshly ground beans he had just prepared.

"Your coffee, Sir," Harry spoke as he set down Tom's coffee on the table in front of him along with some cream and sugar.

Tom smiled pleasantly as he brought the cup of steaming coffee to his lips, "I always drink my coffee black, and its Tom."

"Hm?" Harry let out a confused sound as he brought the tray that had previously held the coffee closer to his chest.

"My name," Tom clarified, bringing the cup down, "Is Tom. I'd rather you call me that instead of Sir. The coffee is great, as always by the way, I only drink coffee from here." He supplied before taking another sip.

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Do you come here often? I'm sure I would've remembered you…" He muttered the end, probably not meaning for Tom to hear the last bit.

"No, it's actually my first time coming in here. I usually have my secretaries get my coffee for me."

"Oh…" Harry replied lamely because, well honestly, how else could he reply to such a statement. He hadn't missed the man's use of the word secretaries either. This was a man with high enough power and standing to have not one but two secretaries. Harry wondered briefly what the man did for a living but he shrugged it off because what did it matter to him so he laughed lightly and said in a teasing voice with a tilt of his head, "How is your first real experience in my café like?"

"I think I'll be coming by regularly from now on," Tom replied as he got up leisurely. "And I must admit," Tom started saying before he reached out and held Harry's hand in his, "You have me quite hooked on your coffee, no other café seems to do for me anymore," he continued as he brushed his thumb across the males hand before letting go.

Harry blushed hotly as he watched the strange attractive man walk out the door. He felt weird and tingly all over and he had this strange feeling of satisfaction and pride coursing through his veins when the man, Tom, had confessed that he was hooked on his coffee. 'I'm being silly,' Harry thought to himself, shaking himself to get rid of the strange tingling sensation working its way up his spine.

'Well I guess today wasn't so bad,' Tom mused to himself as he made his way back to his office all the while thinking of the shy black haired male behind the counter that could transform into a graceful, confident, barista in the blink of an eye.

* * *

Harry sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time this morning. He was definitely not waiting for Tom to walk through the door right this moment. Who was he kidding of course he was, he couldn't get that damn smiling bastards face out of his head even if he tried. And tried he had, all night long up until the morning and here he was at 9 am staring longingly at the door hoping for the strange man he had met yesterday to walk through the door. He had hoped Tom would've come during the morning rush hour but the man hadn't shown up and he had to admit he was a little disappointed.

'I am not attracted to a stranger I just met yesterday,' he repeated to himself. Alright, he sighed again, who was he kidding? He was bloody attracted to the stranger he met yesterday. He had to have been blind to not be attracted to Tom and even then, he had a feeling that even if he was blind Tom could of had attracted him by his voice alone because Merlin by gods his voice! Tom probably didn't even know he was doing it, or he probably did because he had a feeling that Tom was a sadist or something like that since it seemed like he enjoyed watching him squirm yesterday. Or Harry was being crazy and jumping to conclusions because there was no way someone like that would be attracted to him. Also, he didn't even know if Tom was gay or even liked males to begin with and… he was depressing himself once again.

Decided to push his thoughts aside, he busied himself with cleaning his already clean countertops, and walked around the café making small talk with the regulars present. His day passed without much excitement and when closing time rolled around he couldn't help but feel the disappointment washing over his body in waves. He sighed as he waited for the last thirty minutes to pass before he would be officially closing his shop for the day.

"Miss me?" An all too familiar and mischievous voice washed over him.

"Tom?" He asked without thinking, perking up from his stumped position against the counter. And there he was clad in an impeccable suit with that same damn suggestive smile on his lips.

"Hello Harry," Tom replied in his gorgeous voice, "Have a good day?"

"I've seen better days," Harry replied with a frown because now he felt a bit annoyed that he had been waiting for this man the whole day and he couldn't figure out for the life of him why he would waste his energy like that.

"Oh?" the man replied easily, "Well I hope you have a much better night then."

Harry's eyebrows borrowed, was it possible for a voice to be… musical? He didn't understand why but he just liked Tom's voice… a lot… and it kind of freaked him out because he came to like it so much in such a short amount of time. "Sorry, I'm being rude. It's been a long day," waiting for you, Harry finished in his head before he mentally slapped himself for thinking such a thing. "Do you want to look at our menu and decide or do you already have something in mind?" He finished with the best smile he could muster.

"Well…" Tom started slowly, letting the tip of his tongue peek out slightly from within his mouth, "I do have _something_ in mind already." He paused and was Harry being overly analyzing because that just sounded way too suggestive in his opinion. "That is if you don't mind, I'd rather enjoy a hot cup of your original herbal blend tea right now. In a to-go cup, I don't want to be a bother."

"Oh you're leavening?" Harry blurted out with disappointed lacing his voice before he could stop himself.

I was going to stay and chat with you for a little bit, that is if you don't mind. But I know it's close to closing time and I didn't want to be a nuisance," Tom supplied with a slight wave of his hand, referring to the business hours posted on the door.

"You're not a bother at all, here sit," Harry told him referring to the seats in front of the counter, "I'll bring your tea right up."

Tom smiled at the slightly flushed male before taking a seat in front of him. "Mmm," Tom hummed as he slowly inhaled the fragrance of lavender and the unique blend of herbs special to The Marauders' Den as Harry handed him his tea. "It's perfect," Tom told him after he took a sip.

"I'm glad you like it," Harry replied before he walked around the counter to the front door and discreetly flipped the 'open' sign on the door to 'closed'. Tom chuckled lightly, hiding his sly smile behind his cup of tea when he noticed Harry flipping the sign over even though it wasn't quite yet closing time.

"So," Tom continued conversationally, "what made today such a bad day for you? Maybe I can help since yesterday I was having quite the bad day and you made it better for me."

"Um…" Harry started before he took a seat on the counter next to Tom. He sighed again, "You know I have to be honest, I was waiting for you to show up. I don't know. You're interesting and I wanted to get to know you more and be…friends? But you didn't show up all day and I…thought you weren't going to come today-" He trailed off lamely before flushing at his statement. 'Wow, wow, wow. Potter just what did you just say?!'

"Hmm?" Tom replied with a smile on his lips, "I guess it helps that I want to know more about you too."

"Oh!" Harry let out before laughing good heartily.

"Tell me a little about yourself," Tom requested as he took a slow drink from his cup. And so they talked for a good hour or so before Tom noticed Harry's sleepy face and requested that they should stop talking for tonight and continue at another time.

"This was fun," Tom started as he stood by Harry who was currently locking up his shop. "We should do this again tomorrow night," he whispered before leaning down slightly to peck Harry's cheek. "Good night Harry," he told him as he drew back and walked down the empty street toward his office building but not before he got a good look at the shy smile gracing the barista's face.

And so for about a week and a half Tom showed up every night near closing time and talked with Harry and every night before he would leave he would give Harry a goodnight kiss on the cheek. But Tom was slowly getting frustrated because, for the past few days Harry had been coming with excuse after excuse for declining getting dinner or lunch or anything with him! And it was obvious to Tom that Harry was just as much attracted to him as Tom was to him. Or was Harry just thick and didn't realize that Tom wanted him as something much more than as a _friend_, Tom wanted to date him and wanted to do a whole list of things to Harry that would make even the crudest sailor blush crimson. And to add to his list of growing frustrations in his life, he couldn't go see Harry tonight because he was buried in paper work that needed finishing before he could leave. He wished he had Harry's phone number but the black haired minx had told him one night that he felt no need for cell phones and had never bothered to purchase one for himself. He made a mental reminder to himself to get Harry a cellphone first thing tomorrow before he resigned himself to the mountain of paperwork awaiting his review and signature.

* * *

"I guess he's not coming tonight," Harry finally told his part-timer and friend, Draco, glumly when it reached ten minutes passed closing time.

"Hmm. I was hoping to meet this amazing Tom you kept talking about the minute I finally returned, from France, might I add." The blonde whined, well to Harry he knew Draco was whining to anyone else it just sounded as if the blonde was pissed off.

Harry smiled at the fuming blonde, "I don't talk about him that much do I?"

"Oh I don't know Harry, it depends on what your definition of 'much' is," Draco replied in a sarcastic tone, but Harry was too far into his own mind to pay attention to his sardonic friend.

"I wonder why he didn't come today…" Harry wondered out loud.

Draco sighed before patting his friend on the back, "Maybe he'll come tomorrow. And I'll get to see the bastard that stole my Harry's heart."

"Draco!" Harry hissed, "He- He did not steal my heart. We're friends."

"Yeah?" Draco asked arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow, "And I'm not a natural and devilishly handsome blonde." Ignoring Harry's outraged cry, "yes, yes, I get it," he groaned, "let's just close the shop for tonight okay? I'm sure he'll come tomorrow."

* * *

Tom did in fact make it in time for the next night but the sight that welcomed him wasn't welcoming at all. There was currently a blonde, and not an all-out unattractive blonde either, male wrapped around _HIS_ Harry's back and Harry wasn't doing a thing to dislodge said male currently pawing at him. He didn't like the way the blonde was hanging all over and touching Harry because Harry was, 'Mine. Mine. _**MINE**_.' He thought vehemently and if looks could kill that blonde would be nothing more than a pile of fried ash by now.

"Oh Tom!" Harry greeted with a smile when he noticed the stoic male at his door, "We missed you last night."

Tom walked toward the pair with a tight smile on his face and took his usual seat at the counter even though he wanted nothing more than to rip the blonde to shreds. "I was buried in paper work," he replied tightly.

Noticing Tom's gaze at the his blonde friend, but being oblivious to the jealously storming in his eyes, Harry introduced them, "Draco this is Tom, Tom this is Draco, he's my friend and part-timer he just came-"

"Back from Paris," the pompous blonde finished in perfect French before curling an arm around Harry's waist. Tom glared at the hand rubbing circles on his Harry's hip. How dare that little boy lay a hand on him! "I've missed mon Harry so much," the boy spoke before laying a loud kiss on the barista's cheek.

"Oh?" Tom spoke coldly, "I'm sure you've missed him." Then, turning toward the oblivious barista, he spoke in slightly stressed voice, "Harry, could I speak to you outside for a bit?"

"Of course, Draco we'll be back in a bit," Harry told him behind his back as he walked out the door with Tom. He noticed the blonde's narrowing grey eyes and pointing his finger down as if to say, "Stay!"

* * *

"Um, Tom? What are you doing?" Harry asked flabbergasted when Tom quite literally pushed him up against a sleek silver car parked in front of his shop and pinned him against it.

But Tom didn't bother answering his question. Instead he hissed out, "Are you dating that blonde Harry?"

"What?! No!" Harry exclaimed, quite appalled that Tom would think such a thing.

"Then why, is that little boy running his hands all over you like he _owns_ you?" The once pleasant and cool mannered CEO asked in an angry voice, his grip on Harry's hips tightening with every second.

"I… I don't know. That's just how Draco is…" Harry trailed off with a gulp as the angrier Tom seemed to get the more his own arousal seem to flare to life. 'I shouldn't be getting turned on by this. What is wrong with me dear god.'

"Well I don't like it," Tom bit out bluntly, "because, Harry, my dear, you are mine." He growled out fiercely before bringing their lips together in a heated kiss. "And Harry, I want that to be clear to him," Tom continued as he began to trail open mouthed kisses down the panting barista's neck line his hands inching their way underneath his shirt. "Tell me Harry, can I have you?"

"Oh gods," He heard Harry whimper. Tom chuckled against his neck, "Tell me. Now." He growled possessively before slowly grinding on the whimpering male as he brought his hands down once again to Harry's hips to control his movements.

"Mmm!" Harry let out a choked whimper when Tom's once again wandering hand found a particular sensitive spot on his chest, "No," he whined, "It hurts…"

"Shh," Tom whispered as he brought their lips together once again, "Just tell me Harry, just tell me that you are mine and I'll make you feel all better." He licked his lips as he observed the panting and thoroughly aroused boy against his car. Although this wasn't the exact way he wanted his first time to go with Harry, he wasn't really complaining.

"Fine!" Harry half yelled and half sobbed out, "I'm yours" He grabbed the back of the taller male's neck and brought their lips together before he whispered against them, "Now make me feel better."

Tom smiled against his little barista's lips. Oh yes, he thought as he got Harry in his car, he was definitely going to enjoy his time with him.

* * *

Meanwhile back in The Marauders' Den, Draco Malfoy grumbled to himself about all the shit he has put up with for being a good friend as he cleaned and locked up the small café before exiting through the back door.

The End


End file.
